Page 58 of Fa-La-La-La Faking It
After she’d left the library yesterday and made a quick stop at Bluebonnet General, she’d gone straight back to Cherry on Top and baked a practice cake layered with homemade tart cherry filling made with a generous dollop of her homemade almond extract. She’d needed the quiet time in the kitchen, not only to prepare for the wedding, but also to absorb what they’d learned about Jace’s uncle Gus.
Baking had always been Adaline’s therapy. Since the day Gram taught her how to roll out dough and make her very first pie, she’d turned to baking whenever her feelings felt too big to understand. She baked when she was anxious. She baked when she happy. She baked when she was sad. Countless tears had been baked into the hundreds of pies she’d made over the years. But no bake had ever had to soothe as much grief as that practice wedding cake had.
She grieved for Jace as much as she did for his uncle. The loss Gus had endured fifty years ago had taken its toll on everyone around him, most notably his nephew. She hoped that might change, now that Jace knew the truth. Surely it would. Gus had to see how much Jace loved him. Adaline knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that no one had cared more for that man, except maybe his dearly departed wife.
Still, she had a sinking feeling every time she thought about Jace trying to talk to Gus about the newspaper article. After the recital last night, she’d offered to go with him to the senior center this morning for moral support. But Jace wanted to do it alone, and Adaline completely understood why. Gus was going to have a tough enough time allowing himself to be vulnerable in front of his nephew. If she came along, she’d just make things worse.
“What do you think, Fuzzy?” she said as she slid the final layer of the cherry vanilla wedding cake out of the oven.
The Cavalier woofed from his nook in the bakery. Adaline knew he was only responding to the sound of his name, but she liked carrying on a conversation with him throughout the day.
Adaline nodded. “I agree. We’ve got three perfectly pink layers of sponge. Soon, the fun part begins—the decorating.”
She needed to take a breather to check her messages and voice mails. Maple’s name had popped up on her screen at least once, along with a phone number she didn’t recognize. The cake needed time to cool before she covered it with a base layer of pink-tinted frosting. Then she’d smooth the edges with a scraper before starting on the fanciful piping.
But first, a quick break.
She glanced at the clock above the stainless steel sink and wondered how Jace was getting on with his uncle. It was probably a good sign that it was past noon and she hadn’t heard from him. They clearly had a lot to talk about.
Adaline opened her voicemail and listened to Maple’s message on speaker while she lined up the piping bags and the five different nozzles she’d need to decorate the wedding cake.
Hey, Adaline. It’s me. I know you’ve got a lot going on today, but I wanted to let you know that I heard back from the veterinary association about the grant.
Adaline went still, piping nozzles forgotten.
We didn’t get it, hon. I don’t want you to worry, though. You did such a great job getting us that space at a reduced rate. We’re going to be fine. Comfort Paws has a big and bright future, in large part because of you. I love you like a sister.
Disappointment sagged through Adaline, despite Maple’s kind words. Everything had been going so great. She’d been so convinced they’d get that grant.
Maple was right, though. They still had the storefront, and they could raise the remaining funds they needed. Comfort Paws would still go on to do great things in the coming year. Best of all, in two days, she and Maple would berealsisters.
She took a deep breath and pressed play on the next voicemail, fully expecting it to be either spam or a new custom order for the bakery. Cherry on Top’s customers had been filling her voice mail with pleading messages for days, despite the fact that her cutoff date for holiday orders had passed over a week ago.
Hello, this message is for Adaline Bishop.
The voice sounded vaguely familiar, but Adaline couldn’t immediately place where she’d heard it before. She didn’t recognize it as one of her regular customers, though.
This is Vanessa Kruger from the property management company at Bluebonnet Circle, calling about the lease agreement you signed yesterday for the storefront currently occupied by Tiny Tots Day School. I’m afraid I have some bad news...
Adaline stiffened. How could there be bad news? They had a contract. The property manager had just referenced the lease agreement.
Shortly after you left yesterday, we were contacted by another party interested in the space. After taking a look at the storefront, they put down a deposit for the full asking price on the rental. Given that your lease agreement has a twenty-four-hour cancellation clause, we’ve chosen to exercise our right to cancel the contract. I’m sorry if you find this news disappointing. We wish you and Comfort Paws the best in the coming year. Merry Christmas.
The message cut off with a click, and Adaline snapped out of the trance she’d fallen into the second she’d heard the phrase “twenty-four-hour cancellation clause.” This couldn’t be happening. She’d done everything right this time, and once again, someone had come and stolen her space right out from under her.
She marched to her handbag, where the lease agreement was still tucked away, waiting for the ink to dry. Adaline remembered the twenty-four-hour cancellation clause, but she hadn’t given it much consideration. Such cooling off periods were pretty standard on contracts in the state of Texas. They gave people a chance to back out of an agreement if they had immediate regrets or somehow felt pressured to sign the contract in the first place.
But no one really did that, did they?
Adaline wanted to scream. The only reason she didn’t was because she knew it would frighten Fuzzy, who was already watching her with a concerned crease in his furry brow. Plus, if she screamed, all three layers of Maple and Ford’s wedding cake might collapse.
She was half-surprised they didn’t just go ahead and spontaneously implode. It would make perfect sense since everything she touched was falling to pieces all of a sudden.
Her gaze bore into the useless contract in her hands. There it was—the dreaded twenty-four-hour cancellation provision, right at the top of page two. She tried to read it and search for a loophole or something...anything...that might mean the space still belonged to Comfort Paws. But she couldn’t see straight. The words blurred as her eyes filled with tears, and a fat drop landed on the contract, smudging her initials so the letters were no longer readable.
Adaline wadded the paper into a ball and threw it at the wall. It ricocheted into Fuzzy’s pen, and the Cavalier pounced on it with his backside in the air, tail wagging in triumph.
“Go ahead, tear it to bits if that makes you happy,” Adaline said. What difference did it make? The lease agreement was useless now. In a matter of minutes, all her grand plans for Comfort Paws had gone up in smoke. First the grant and now the training space.
